When I was at my most disabled, I swore to myself that if I were ever to start living normal life again I would be fearless, I would take opportunities and I would enjoy everything ten times more than I had done before. And of course, just like everyone else, when some of the opportunities have returned I have quickly forgotten what a luxury it is to be painting at all, and have only been frustrated by my efforts and intimidated by the prospect of failure! Over the last few weeks I have spent an entire morning on a series of horrific paintings of a lowly sweet and wasted hours on two versions of a very unsuccessful painting of an interior window! I also failed to make it pass pre-selection for an exhibition at the Mall Galleries.
Of course any artist should be prepared for this rocky journey, but I thought I would share these struggles because when an artist shares only the work she is proud of, it can look like it all comes easily. In fact, a lovely facebook page called procraftinate summed up the agonising process of painting perfectly – you start with a wonderful idea, and a captivating image in your minds eye; you begin and for a while it looks promising – your hopes continue to rise; mistakes creep in, you start to lose that original idea, you start to hate the very sight of your painting. This, for me, sums up the first hour of any painting. By the time I’m an hour in, I’m usually at the point where I want to give up. The bulk of the work will be done against an internal chorus, singing, ‘This is terrible, you are awful at this, this is just a colossal waste of time…’ etc etc. Sometimes, usually after a night’s sleep, I come back to a painting and suddenly see its good points. From then on, the final stretch of painting is braving a nerve-wracking chant of ‘don’t screw it up, don’t screw it up!’
So there you go, after a behind the scenes look into the artistic psyche, here are some of the better bubbles that rose to the surface since my last post:
The first in a short series of paintings showing how Lyme Disease changes the meaning of ordinary objects. Here are lemons – a staple of still life painting (though my first ever attempt in oil), but here they are next to a glass because, for me, lemons mean detoxing from the effects of Lyme treatment. While painting the glass of water was an utterly bewildering experience, it ended up being fairly successful, and will only need minor alterations. The main area still to work on is the cut face of the lemon, which lost all its shine as I worked too quickly and too muddily.
I then decided to finish the portrait of little dog called Jet. You might remember the painting looking quite near completion in a previous post. In fact, it took many more hours to finish – much of that time spent over-fussing, and then trying to recover the original freshness. Over time I hope I will become more selective in these final stages of painting, and have the confidence only to work on a few areas which need adjustment, rather than diving back in head first and losing sight of the whole. As I was painting I was desperately worried about losing the character of this little alert face, but fortunately I think I managed to add the detail, particularly around the muzzle, without losing the all the good points in the first layer of paint!
Now follows a collection of new endeavours, which, for want of a better (or even, good) name, I’m calling ‘tiny treasures’.
I was captivated really by these double sided brass frames, which are now being used as a trendy way to display photos or pressed flowers. However, I love the way that these little frames seem to crystallise and suspend what is inside, so my hope is to make tiny paintings to play with the idea of a solid object being impossibly squeezed between two panes of glass. I also want to explore the idea of ‘treasure’ – selecting things which are fragile, sparkling, transient or perfectly formed. My first few have been a blackbird egg, an unfurling fern frond and a rusty key. As you can see, sometimes I use torn edges, like a fragment of life itself, and sometimes I have very carefully cut out the painting so that it really looks like the object is suspended in mid-air. If these go down well, I have many more ideas to come…
Lastly, after my crisis in confidence a week or so ago, I decided I need to do some art from my own development, and so have started a work where the subject will be split into four fragments and each will be executed with a different medium, as an exercise and exploration of how different media bring out different qualities in the subject. My hope is that, as a whole, the work will be coherent and realistic, but individually the sections will feel painterly and abstract. I hope that leaves you interested! More on that, I hope, next time.
Until then, I will be trying to be less frustrated and fearful about my art, and rediscover the spirit of joy underneath all that self-imposed pressure! Wishing everyone else, too, a fear-less, frustration-less, pressure-less, joy-ful Easter weekend!